I know you’re all thinking it – It’s about time for another disastrous dating tale! (OK, yes I do know that literally none of you were thinking that, but I’m gonna go ahead and write it anyway!)
This is actually a story that I don’t think I have told anyone before, but it is nevertheless true.
Back in my sad and lonely uni days, when I really should have been using my free time to do my assignments, I was on dating websites and chatting to boys. (This was to pass that time realistically, I wasn’t that promiscuous.)
One evening I got to chatting with this one guy. I can’t for the life of my remember his name, but I’m sure it was something like Jay – so we’ll just call him Jay for the purpose of the story.
Jay is one of those types that I am sure most twenty-somethings have come across, if of course you have been on a dating site for long enough. He was sweet and complimentary and told me everything about me was amazing – a real confidence booster. Then, a week or so and two skype chats later, he starts bringing up sex. (Or more accurately, his own sexual promiscuity and of course, his willy.)
Now, Jay (who I am now starting to believe may actually have been called Jake…) was very easy to talk to, he was interesting and had been telling me all about his travels around the world, BUT I was not interested in talking anything sexual with him – and I told him as such. He actually didn’t seem to mind, which I don’t know why but I was surprised at. Instead he just said:
“That’s OK, I’m not good for people anyway. It’s unexplainable and hard to believe. It’s best you stay away from me.”
I mean, you can’t just say that and not intrigue a girl, so I asked him…”Why?”
He insisted for a little while that I would be “freaked out” and he was supposedly worried that I wouldn’t “believe him”. Well, by this point I was naturally desperate to know. I was always attracted to unobtainable bad boys and so I wanted to know if this could push him over the edge into relationship potential.
“OK,” he finally said. “I’m sure you noticed all those marks all over my body when were were on webcam.”
I hadn’t noticed a thing. The man had been clothed.
“Well, those aren’t self harm marks. I was born with them, or at least it is assumed that I was born with them as I was adopted. I was literally one of those babies that was left outside a police station. I was in the papers as the baby that was found with marks all over his body and I have lived my whole life trying to live it down, which is why I have travelled so much to escape it.”
“Wow, that’s quite a lot to deal with. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” I was already suspicious at this point.
“That’s not all.” He went on.
Of course, that wasn’t all!
“I can’t regulate my heat. I’m so hot all of the time. My skin feels like it burns and I can barely wear clothes most of the time. I don’t feel it though, but other people say my skin feels like its on fire.”
“Do you have a condition?” I asked bluntly. I clearly didn’t see what he was getting at.
“I also have another mark. Another one that I was born with. On the back of my head. I have…and its very clear…the 666 mark on the back of my head.”
“I don’t want to be and I have to fight my natural urges every day, but I’m the anti-christ. If that’s what you want to call it.”
No, that’s not what I wanted to call him.
So there it is – I was chatting to the devil himself, and I’m quite happy to say I haven’t talked to him since.
(Maybe that’s a shame. Maybe we could have had our very own Lucy and the Anti-Christ love story, our very own Twilight type saga.)